The Real Deal

After a month, or so, of computer issues–ARGH!!! (I’m giving y’all my best pirate imitation)–I am back with a new love letter. It is the fourth in my season of scripting short stories about love. My prayer is that I will consistently practice writing flash and micro-fiction while completing the final edits to my debut novel.

I thought I would have finished by now. No one told me there would be so many bumps along this winding road. One thing I have learned is that life does not stop because you want to create art, and I would not want it to either. Each bump in life is filled with stories waiting to be told, maybe not now but tomorrow and even years from now. Perspective matters more than I realized when I began this journey, and my storytelling is richer because of the trials and battles fought to get to today. Every stall or redirect or need for rest grounds me in a way that an easy ride never would. For these bumps, I am thankful.

The day before yesterday, the day before my birthday, I did not feel this way. In fact, on September 21, I journaled the following: Oh, my messy girl lifestyle has poked its ugly disruptive head out of its hole and is nagging me incessantly, telling me “your novel sucks,” telling me “no one cares about what you write, everybody writes these days,” telling me “this would be easier if you were already a celebrity and not a grown woman still chasing dreams.” But that was the day before yesterday, and even then, I had to tell that voice–that pretends to be me but is not–to shut up! I said aloud, I know who I am and whose I am, and whether I am the type of success that the world recognizes, I stand on the promise found in Joshua 1:8 of the Bible, I stand on the mantras I created during my 21 days of goal setting. And having done all things, I will stand. 

In time, I will complete the final draft of my novel. In time, I will find the right agent to represent my work, or they will find me. And in time, I will have published that first novel and be eagerly writing and rewriting another. 

Until then, I welcome anyone out there to keep me accountable because writing is a lonely process unless you talk to your characters (and I do not). As my fellow writers know, we writers spend countless hours typing our thoughts onto blank pages, willingly sacrificing ordinary social desires. But I do so without complaint. For without writing, I would have no interest in socializing. I know I was created to live in this world of quiet rooms and tentative timelines. Right now that means, bowing out of weekly newsletters and marketing, for the sheer joy of writing, writing, and rewriting, which is the only way to practice and perfect my craft.

Thank you for traveling this road with me and for your prayers. With kind regards,

Leah